(It is written on the wind)
(It is written on the wind)
A faithless lover's kiss is written on the wind
A night of stolen bliss is written on the wind
Just like the tide leaves
Our dreams we've calmly thrown away
Now they've flown away
{Softly flown away}
The promises we made are whispers in the breeze
They echo and they fade just like our memories
Though you are gone from me
We never can really be apart
What's written on the wind
Is written in my heart
Though you are gone from me
We never can really be apart
What's written on the wind
Is written in my heart
Is written in my heart
(It is written on the wind)
Letty
Letty, I think that things pretty well balance out in the long run. Generally, what you contribute to A2K you get back. Maybe not on all of your threads, but enough that its obvious that people stick around. And the payback increases as we get to know each other, don't you think?
BBB
edgar, that was lovely. Was it yours?
Yes, BBB. I think ergo...argo...ergot..damn. Now I've forgotten what this thread is about.
Truly, you are correct.
letty
That's the theme from a movie, as performed by the Four Aces.
Well, edgar, I must revise and say, your originals are much better. They are a thread that runs so true.
I must write another poem for someone who has gone with the wind.
Edgar and Letty
What about a poem for Ray Charles, whose death this week was almost drowned out in the Media's Reagan love fest? Charles was different than Reagan; he never hurt anyone except himself (and those who loved him)and he made wonderful music.
BBB
I love Ray dearly - I have records spanning his whole career.
I like this thread. Let's say A2K is a old mansion. There an enormous party going on, music blaring, people screaming, alcohol being consumed in prodigious amounts.
The whole scene is chaotic, but then one ducks into a small room tucked into the corner of the house; a room with overstuffed chairs and a crackling fire in the fireplace.
There's only a few people in the room, but they are all old friends who you only see on occasion.
So you pull up a chair and talk for awhile, but then realize your glass is empty.
Gotta go.... back to the chaos.
An old mansion full of secret passages and blythe spirits.
I sink into the memories of the past,
Where I was swimming in a natural pool.
The water was cool and inviting.
Glow worms lit the banks,
And there was no one to see.
And then the scene changes
To a ruined castle where I search for
Remnants of things that once were.
Finding only ruin among the quietness.
a voice says in low tones:
What do you want, Letty?
I have no answer.
Suddenly, the scounderal, Rhet Butler arises from his nap. "Hey, Gus; get one for me."
Make that a double! pronto....
Rice wine. Saki?
Goodnight from Florida and the Bridge of Lions
Good lord! Going to bed at 7:45 p.m.!
Those poems must really wear you out.
If you looked at my words in print and from m'self speaking over time, I am afraid the words "really" and
"actually" would have tooooo much presence.
Ray Charles performed at Reagan's 1984 inaugeration.
That's what I learned tonight in this quiet little corner, out of the mainstream of the maelstrom.
Now Ray can sing for the angels. They will surely enjoy it as much as we.
Wonder if George Shering is still with us. One helluva jazz piano player.
Gus, wink ain't asleep and goodbye ain't gone, thus goodnight simply means, I gotta get supper.
well no wonder she goes to bed @ 19:45,
she gets "supper" @9:52 in the morning;
those Floridans!
Now, I'm going to fix brunch.
